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David Bojay Feb 2019
a sirenic void
entrance to detachment

what is there to replace?
when all there is has always been

out the bin with regrettable sin
the walls of boundaries are thin

when all comes to an end
where the **** do I begin?

sashayed into a doom
the corner of my room

a lesson learned with grace
a healthy bitter taste


******* ****


my time I cannot waste
I put the flower on a pedestal and not a vase


sometimes wasted times wasted feeling numb below my waist

copy paste erase **** I rather not face

what's the point?

— The End —